I'm Contractually Obligated to Kiss You
by Butteryfly Truths
Summary: This had to be the worst game France had yet to invent... All the nations are forced into a dating game where they must spend a week with a random nation in the pursuit of l'amour. Rated T for language. Multiple pairings inside!
1. Chapter 1

I'm Contractually Obligated to Kiss You

Chapter 1

England didn't know why, but he felt unnaturally apprehensive about the day.

There was no rhyme or reason for the feeling but it settled uncomfortably in the back of his mind nonetheless. The sky outside mirrored his internal trepidation as it filled with thick, heavy rain clouds practically bursting at the seams with moisture. One misplaced step and the whole system would explode into a torrential downpour.

Maybe this odd feeling had to do with the fact that this month's meeting was in France.

Yes, that was probably it, after all France was… well France was _France_ and that was cause for concern in and of itself. Who knows what the 'nation of l'amour' had in store for them today. Hopefully, Switzerland wouldn't be pulling out his guns again. Honestly, the Frog should have thought that plan out better before betting with Prussia that he could touch Lichtenstein in a vaguely inappropriate way and get away with it. Of course France and Prussia had drunk the equivalent of a pub's worth of beer and wine each before attempting the stunt, but still.

He sighed as he put on his suit and expertly tied his tie. The sooner he could get out of this blasted country the better in his mind. He could thankfully say though that this was their last day of meetings.

As he closed his hotel door behind him, England caught sight of America walking down the hallway up ahead. He turned as he heard the sound of the door click shut and those sky blue eyes of his lit up when he saw England standing there.

"Heya Artie!" America greeted as he backtracked to England. England sighed as he met the superpower halfway. He didn't want to deal with America's obnoxious behavior so early in the morning, especially before he'd had a nice cup of tea. He didn't even have the energy to correct America about the whole nickname thing.

"Good morning Alfred," England muttered, a hand going up to rub his temple as he closed his eyes momentarily and imagined the oncoming headache the American would likely induce. He opened his eyes though in surprise as he felt something pushed against his free hand. Looking down he saw a foam coffee cup stuffed into his hand. He had to hold back a grimace. He needed tea, not coffee.

"Alfred you know I don't drink-"

"Don't worry man, it's not coffee," America replied, neatly cutting England off mid sentence. England wanted to reprimand America on his horrible manners but his curiosity as to what was in his hands if it wasn't coffee was of greater appeal. Bringing it to his lips he took a tentative sip. His eyes widened in surprise as a familiar taste flooded his mouth.

"You're drinking _tea_?" England questioned in surprise. Not just any tea either. Earl Grey to be exact. _His_ tea.

"The kitchen was out of coffee," America replied hastily, his eyes averted and the tips of his ears bright pink.

 _Liar_ , England thought, smirking at the superpower. Old habits die hard, England knew that from experience. Still, he wasn't going to let this golden opportunity to badger his former colony go.

"Such a shame, you must have been in tears drinking my 'dirty dish water' as you so aptly named it as you dumped it into the harbor," he teased and sipped more of the tea. America sent him a playful scowl as they walked towards the meeting room.

"Hey, I'm the hero, I can go a day without coffee! Besides it'd be downright cruel if I let everyone face the wrath that is tea-less Arthur Kirkland!" America answered back easily with a grin.

"Please, the only reason you probably gave this to me is so you could coerce me into doing something with you," England countered.

"Well, Kiku _did_ just send me a bunch of horror movies I haven't seen yet…"

"Ah ha, I knew it!" America's smile widened.

"Soooo what'd ya say?" he asked, batting his eyelashes for extra effect.

"If you spoke proper English then perhaps I'd say yes," England replied back with a snicker. He didn't know why he'd had such a bad feeling about today, if anything England was quite enjoying himself at this moment. Maybe it had just been the dismal weather outside that had caused this foreboding feeling inside him. Standing next to America was like standing next to his own personal sun and his infectious smiles chased away any bad feelings England had been having.

"But Art!" America whined, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

"It's Arthur you twit, but fine," he relented with a smile, "only because I'm a gentleman." America gave him a dazzling smile and before he realized it the American had pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"My tea!" England cried in horror as the cup practically flew out of his hands at the surprise.

America quickly let go and allowed England to drag the foam cup back to the safety of his chest.

"Oops, wai- _Artie_ ," America whined indignantly as England slapped the back of his head.

"That was for almost making me drop my tea, wanker," England replied, his face beet red.

"Aw Art you look like a tomato!" America mocked.

"I'm not Romano," England snapped, his face flushing darker. America snickered.

"You are both really tsundere though…" America trailed off smirking as they neared the meeting room.

"You and your stupid Japanese terms," England muttered as the two of them walked in and took their seats. They were fairly early and only Germany and Italy were here. Germany was here because, well, he was _Germany_. Italy on the other hand looked like he hadn't even woken up at all and someone had just picked him up out of bed and unceremoniously deposited him in his seat.

He was currently sleeping against Germany's shoulder as the blond nation tried to read through his notes in regards to his presentation today. Said nation glanced up and nodded in greeting at America and England's entrance.

They took their seats and soon Germany was not the only one dealing with a sleepy country. America was slowly slipping back off to sleep as he sat with his elbows on the table and his head cradled in his palms. No matter how much the boy claimed otherwise, America needed at least some caffeine to get him through the day as much as the next person.

England let out a small sigh before pushing his half-full cup of tea towards America before he had a chance to regret it. After all, some caffeine is better than none and England could get by long enough until a break was called to replenish himself. America took the cup without a word and immediately began to take deep sips from it. England's eyes flickered from America to Germany.

Their eyes met and England rolled his in a 'what-can-you-do' expression. Germany smirked back a 'I-know-what-you-mean' and then glanced at Italy, his eyes softening just a little.

America had just handed England back the remnants of his tea as the other nations began to finally stream in, slightly more conscious than a few minutes ago. Italy was jostled awake as Romano came barging in with Spain hot on his heels, his bubbly laughter pealing through the air as he continuously teased the Italian with comparisons between him and tomatoes. Romano's eyes narrowed on his younger brother's sleeping form and he quickly made a beeline to him and began roughly shaking him awake. Italy opened his eyes and started whining in Italian to his brother while Germany sent the older Italian a disapproving glare at having Italy woken up in such a manner. Romano ignored them both and sat in his seat next to Italy with an aggravated huff, spinning the chair around to berate Spain instead.

Prussia waltzed in and sat on Germany's other side, promptly proceeding to get under Germany's skin in the way that only siblings can. They'd tried banning him from these meetings as he technically wasn't a country anymore, but the idiot always managed to find a way to sneak in anyways, so they had just stopped trying to enforce it all together and just allowed him to do what he wanted. It caused less headaches that way, England supposed.

The former nation's obnoxious laughter bounced off the walls, shattering whatever salvageable silence had been left in the room.

The Nordics came in next with Finland leading the charge and Sweden close behind with Iceland following a bit further back. They were talking about Sweden's latest furniture designs and all the Christmas preparations that needed to start soon. England smiled slightly as their conversation turned to Sealand and some of the trouble he'd gotten himself into as of late. England was forever grateful to those two for taking the poor boy in. He simply couldn't deal with the thought of raising another brother (seeing how all the others turned out for him) and it wasn't like he and Sealand got along well anyway.

Denmark and Norway were quick to follow the first three Nordics in. Denmark was doing all the talking, buzzing around the shorter Nordic as a bee does around its prized flower. Norway knew it was impossible for him to get rid of Denmark, so he did the next best thing which was to shut up and ignore him. If that didn't work he'd most likely resort to choking the Dane.

Greece and Turkey came in afterwards, bickering as always about something that no one could really understand. As Greece berated Turkey he began to slip into his deep, philosophical self, yelling about the state of the world and man's place in it and how it was somehow all Turkey's fault. Turkey then threatened to take Greece to the spa again, which England didn't see as threatening in the least. England sighed and shook his head at the strange turn the argument was taking. There certainly were some abnormal countries out there.

"Be thankful you turned out so normal," England muttered to America. America, who had also been following the argument, turned and flashed England a cheeky smile.

"Aw, I'm touched," he said with mock sympathy. England snorted and turned his attention to the door where the last of the countries where streaming in. Then came the man of the hour, dressed to the nines in all the latest French fashion. England wanted to tear his eyes out as soon as he laid eyes on the flashy outfit. Frenchmen, just _ugh_.

"I hope I have not kept you all waiting," France stated, a lazy grin on his face.

"Just get up here and read your bloody papers, Frog," England replied in annoyance from his spot.

"Ah _mi amour_ , how you wound me so," the Frenchman replied dramatically, sweeping his hand over his face. England felt America bristle beside him and shot him a narrowed look. Now was not the time creating a scene, though England really wouldn't have minded watching the Frog get his teeth knocked out. _My ever faithful guard dog_ , he mused silently as he saw the smoldering emotions in the depths of those sky blue eyes.

"Down boy," England whispered, smirking ever so slightly. America turned his glare from France to England, before settling on pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. England's smirk grew.

France walked around to the podium set up in the room, carefully straightening his papers before looking up at his audience. He cleared his throat loudly to get the nations' attention. Once he felt he had all eyes on him he proceeded with that annoyingly easy grin of his.

"I know that most of you probably don't want to hear about the status of my country and my economy and such unless you're Germany, so we're not going to do that today. Instead I've come up with something _much_ better for us all to do." The way those words rolled off his tongue had England squirming uncomfortably in his seat, all of his anxious and foreboding thoughts coming crashing back into his head. There was no way what France was about to say next was good. The nations all looked at France curiously, hushed whispers scattered amongst them as to what France was hinting at.

"What is the point to this meeting then if we're not discussing business?" Germany asked, waves of irritation radiating from him. He hated having his time be wasted.

"The point is about something much greater than simple business _mon ami_. It is about _l'amour_ , and everyone's lack thereof," France cried out dramatically. England groaned loudly, face palming. Of course the bloody frog would try to make this about love. How typical.

"As the country of love it is my responsibility to see that it is spread everywhere, even amongst us nations. Therefore I have been graced with the brilliant idea of holding a type of dating game."

"A dating… game?" Germany voiced warily.

" _Oui_ ," France said with a nod. "We will put our names into a computer and it will give out the names of two nations. Those two nations then must spend one week living together!" You could hear a pin drop.

"…That has to be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard," England snorted.

"Please, like anyone is going to do something as fucking stupid as that," Romano scowled.

"Nobody would ever agree to that," Germany voiced. "And besides us, our bosses would never let us do that."

"Ah, but it is not about any of you agreeing," France replied, a gleam in his eyes. "I knew that you all wouldn't willingly do this, so I've resorted to other measures to ensure that you all participate. You see I have in my possession some… _photographs_ that I do not believe any of you would want shared."

"Is this fucking blackmail?" Romano spat. France gave him a Cheshire grin.

"Blackmail is such a harsh term _non_? I am simply doing this in the name of _l'amour_. Call it _forceful persuasion_. If you do not comply, then your bosses shall all receive your scandalous photos."

Around the room everyone's faces turned red as they tried to imagine the embarrassing scene France had taken a picture of. Sadly, there were a bit too many to choose from and there was no way any country in the room wanted their boss to get a hold of such a picture. Especially if said picture is one of the more… _interesting_ ones. No one questioned if France even had actual photos of them that were blackmail-worthy. This _was_ France and everyone clearly remembered the whole April Fool's Day blackmail fiasco.

"I guess we have no choice then," America finally said, breaking the heavy silence.

"America finally said something sensible for once aru," China chuckled from the other side of the room.

"Ve~ Ludwig what's going on? What's big brother Francis talking about?"

"I'll explain it to you later…"

"Aw, don't act so depressed _mes amis_. This is a glorious chance for each of you to find l'amour! As soon as you find l'amour then you are exempt from the game!"

"Wait what about me and Berwald?" Finland asked from his seat. "I mean we're already technically married!" France nodded.

"Do not fret Finland. I've already taken that into account. This game is _only_ for single nations." Some nations let out small sighs of relief. Even if they didn't want to play the game, no one would have wanted to take Sweden's 'wife' away from him unless they had a death wish.

"Now, no more chitchat. It is time for you all to sign the contract!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? This isn't another one of your calendars again is it?" England yelled. Dear lord, France wasn't going to try and wed them again was he? France laughed at England's panicked outburst.

"It is to ensure everyone plays by the rules _mon ami_ ," France explained with a sly grin.

"Wow, Francis really thought of everything," Spain commented as he looked from his friend to the contract being placed before him with a mixture of awe and uneasiness. This was probably one of his friend's most extreme, yet well thought out, games he'd ever come up with. However, he was also uneasy with the rules of the game.

After all, this game would separate him from Romano for an undetermined amount of time! Spain didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't see Romano. Would the other nations take good care of him? Did they know how to wash all of his fine silk shirts? Did they know his siesta habits? Did they know that he hated turtles with almost his entire being? Did they know never ever to bring the mafia up in his presence? Did they know he needed a tomato at least every four hours in order to stay in a somewhat decent mood? Did they know how to act and comfort him when he went into one of his moods?

" _Dios_ …" Spain mumbled, foreseeing a sizeable headache on the horizon.

"Tch, stupid wine bastard," Romano spit out and Spain semi-agreed with the Italian's assessment for once. Everyone watched as the stack of papers was handed down and around the table, everyone looking at the paper as if it was a form of the devil himself.

Slowly but surely all the papers were signed though.

"Now then, since all the papers are signed we can begin the game!" France said with dramatic flourish. He threw his hands in the air and on cue the large projector screen behind him that was _supposed_ to be used for presentations slowly rolled down to its full length.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing something this ridiculous," England muttered under his breath as the projector turned on. Two small boxes appeared on the screen and names began to rapidly filter through both. England found himself sweating a bit as he crossed his fingers tightly beneath the table.

 _PleasenotFrancepleasenotFrancepleasenotFrancebloodyhellanyonebutthatfrog!_

England found himself shutting his eyes as the names slowed, bracing himself for the inevitable…

" _You have to be fucking kidding!_ "

England nearly leapt out of his seat at the outburst. His eyes flew open and immediately tried to find who it had come from. He quickly zoned in on one very, very pissed off Italian. Romano was standing, his seat pushed back a few good feet, his entire body shaking with suppressed rage. His eyes were like daggers as he stared at the screen. England followed his gaze and had to quell the instinct to burst out laughing. Of all the pairings this thing could have chosen...

" _Nein_. I will not consent to that," Germany stated, a look of horror on his face as he stared at the screen. England watched him pinch himself harshly, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. However the names remained the same on the projector screen:

 _Romano and Germany_

"You do not have a choice I'm afraid," France said, not even trying to hide his amused smirk as Germany cast an uneasy glance in Romano's direction before quickly looking away and shuffling uncomfortably in his seat.

"You both signed the contract which means you agreed to play by the rules."

"Well your rules fucking suck bastard," Romano snapped.

"But _fratello_ it's only for one week and Ludwig isn't a bad guy! He's really, really nice to me and-"

"Ugh, shut up Feli!" Romano shouted, cutting his brother off. "I don't want to hear any more praise for the stupid potato bastard! He's fucking brainwashed you with all his goddamn potatoes!"

"That is ridiculous," Germany snorted.

"Oh, you wanna go buddy?" Romano spat, leaning across Italy's seat to try and get all up in Germany's face. Before he could though he was roughly pulled away and into Spain's lap.

"Toni what the hell you _bastardo_ let me down!" Romano shrieked, his face blazing. Spain cooed at him and since this was normal behavior between the two everyone turned away and back to France, their nervousness tripling as they eyed the television.

"Well now that that's settled it is onto the next!" France proclaimed and once again the dreaded countdown began as the names started filtering once again.

"It seems the next pair is Italy and Japan," France announced.

"Yay! I get to spend one week with Kiku!" Italy exclaimed. He jumped out of his seat and raced over to where Japan was sitting to envelop him in a hug.

"Wha-I don't understand," Japan choked out as he became rigid in Italy's embrace. "I need personal space!" Japan shoved Italy away and then immediately apologized upon seeing the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Feliciano-kun I am sorry," Japan said.

"Ve~ don't worry about it Kiku!" Italy replied, smiling brightly at the Japanese man. Germany let out a sigh of relief. Well, at least he knew Italy wouldn't be able to get into too much trouble… hopefully…

"Nooooo! Veto! _Veto_!" Germany heard America cry out in horror. He glanced up at the screen and saw that the next pairing was to be America and China. He watched with a bemused expression as China cackled gleefully at the projection and then yelled something about finally getting his money back as America wailed against England's shoulder.

"Get off of me you bloody twat!" England yelled as he tried to pry the superpower off.

"But Art you gotta help me out man! China's totally gonna take all my money and then I'll be even poorer than the freaking proletariat! The hero can't be poor!"

"Well maybe if you learned how to manage your money correctly then you wouldn't be in this situation," England shot back as he finally forced the American back in his seat. America then proceeded to bang his head loudly on the table, letting out a low groan, and stayed in that position as China smirked victoriously.

The rest of the matches seemed to pass in a blur to England and thankfully none of the rest were as controversial as the first couple had been, though England had gotten a bit worried when he saw 'Turkey and Greece' flash onto the board. That one was certainly not going to end well if the current arguing, which had now gone on for five minutes straight, indicated anything.

There had also been the near incident when Prussia and Ukraine got paired up. America had to get out of his seat and practically restrain Russia in his own seat as he watched Prussia and his older sister make eye-contact, the former clearly struggling to keep his eyes from drifting south. Belarus looked like she wanted to throw a knife at the albino and nearly threw one at Denmark when he was paired up with Russia.

England himself was pleasantly surprised to find himself matched up with Austria. The two sent relieved looks towards each other, thankful to have sane company that they could actually enjoy being with.

Norway stared France down long and hard as the latter nation was paired with Iceland, silently promising death if France dared touch his little brother inappropriately. Iceland, for his part, had so much _no_ in his face that England had to resist laughing, instead settling to jab America in the side when he snickered at the Nordic's expression.

When all the countries had been paired up France started up on his opening speech about how his economy was doing right now, the speech he _should_ have started the meeting with nearly an hour ago. The rest of the time passed in a blur with relatively few complaints or outbursts from other nations, most of them still too shell-shocked by France's game to really think about politics.

"So, that will wrap up this month's meeting," France said, having once again taken up the podium. "As a reminder, after today you have to spend exactly one week with your date. I'll schedule a meeting back here so that we can see if any couples made it through."

France winked at the crowd. " _Au revoir_."

 **Okay so I've had this bunny kicking around on my computer for quite some time now and I thought I'd finally put it up.**

 **I have all the final pairings already figured out but I'm open to suggestions for nations that you'd like to see attempt to live together for a week, though I will probably stay a bit away from nations like the Nordics and a few others, not because I don't like them or anything!, but because I can't write from their perspectives that well and I don't want to make any of the OOC and not give them the justice they deserve.**

 **They will pop up of course, but they might be small pieces instead of entire chapters. Also if I did every single character then this fic would probably get ridiculously long. So to sate everyone's curiosity at just who is being pair up with who I will have the list posted at the end of each chapter along with the week they're in.**

 **1st week pairings:**

 **Germany x Romano**

 **America x China**

 **Canada x Spain**

 **England x Austria**

 **Greece x Turkey**

 **Prussia x Ukraine**

 **Italy x Japan**

 **Belarus x Hungary**

 **France x Iceland**

 **Russia x Denmark**

 **Norway x Switzerland**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm... alive...?**

 **Holy shit I _am_ alive! (jk I'm totally not but somehow I've managed to rise to the occasion and this is so _so_ late but hey at least it's an update?)**

Chapter 2

Nonononono there was no way this was happening. No freakin way! Maybe, if America shut his eyes _really_ tight and opened them he'd wake back up in his bed and realize that it had all been one seriously twisted nightmare.

Fuck, it didn't work.

He glanced nervously over at China who was sitting in the airplane seat next to him, sleeping with a what looked like a knockoff Hello Kitty neck wrap. He really was screwed wasn't he?

America sighed and looked back out the window at the clouds. They were currently flying above the Atlantic on their way to America's place. Try as he might, he couldn't figure out what he had done to get the universe to hate him so much. Why, of all people, did he just _have_ to get stuck with _China_? Come on, like he didn't already get harassed enough from the elder nation about repaying his debts during the meetings, now he was going to get yelled at home- the place where he left world politics behind and actually _relaxed_ once in awhile.

Speaking of getting yelled at though… how the hell was he going to explain the sudden visit to his boss? The President didn't like being constantly blindsided from his nation's shenanigans, and this probably counted as shenanigans in his book even if it really wasn't America's fault this time! America could probably use the excuse that he was trying to improve foreign relations or some bullshit like that to explain the Asian nation's sudden appearance but still it was pretty weak.

"Fuck," America muttered, leaning his head against the window. He briefly considered the possibility of opening the emergency exit and jumping out of the plane. He'd be jumping into the Atlantic, so even from 40,000 feet he could probably survive it without a parachute. He could handle every single bone in his body shattering from the force of the impact. Then again, he didn't know exactly how close to land the plane was, which could mean a lot of swimming for him once his body regenerated. Not to mention the fact that the Atlantic was known for kicking up wicked storms and rough seas. There was also the possibility of sharks to consider; they'd probably be attracted by all the blood. The cabin would depressurize too, most likely causing the plane to break apart from the pressure and crash into the ocean, killing everyone on board besides China.

So yeah, jumping out of the airplane regrettably wasn't an option.

Maybe, once they got off the plane America could sneak away and escape into his cities. It would be easier than breathing to just disappear into the crowds and allow his feet to take him wherever he desired. Then again, China would probably just head straight to the White House and then America was _sure_ to get a verbal thrashing from both his boss and one very pissed off China. America groaned softly against the window, aware of all the sleeping passengers around him. Man, why was it so hard to think up a good escape plan?

Maybe he should ask England for advice. He was a nation known for its spy network after all. MI6 and James Bond and all that jazz. He could probably come up with some snazzy, British escape plan that'd have them rendezvous in London and then they could ride out France's insane game in hiding together- scandalous pictures be damned. Satisfied with the intent to call England once they got onto American soil, America allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he tried to sleep out the flight.

He jumped in his seat as he felt something jab harshly into his side. He quickly whipped his head around- and _man_ did that hurt his neck like a motherfucker -to see a vaguely annoyed China facing him, hand retracting back to his lap.

"What the hell was that for man?" America asked groggily, his mind still half-asleep.

"We're landing in a few minutes," China replied. "I did not want to have to wait for your incompetent mind to wake up on its own." China turned back to face forward in his seat as America grumbled out profanities under his breath and leaned his head back against the window, watching the lights of D.C. glitter beneath them. True to China's words, five minutes later they landed on the airstrip. Thankfully, they had been placed in first class so it was relatively easy to get their carry ons out and walk off the plane and into the terminal.

They hit their first road block as they tried to make their way to the baggage claim area.

"For the love of God Yao, we have to go this way!" America told him, trying to tug the elder in the correct direction. Since they were in public now they had to refer to each other by their human names out of necessity. It had been decided long ago that the general population would not take well to the idea that the nations they considered home had human-looking personifications. When they were among their fellow nations they only used the human names of nations they were particularly close with.

China resisted America's lead though.

"No, I am sure we must go this way!" China argued, trying to guide them in the opposite direction.

"For Christ's sake, I think I would know the right way since, yanno, it is a part of me!" he countered, his voice rising as he got more irritated with the brunet. Oops, little slip up there, but he doubted anyone noticed. Unlike what the stereotypes suggest, Americans really weren't _that_ nosey. Quite frankly, it's the Europeans that are the nosey ones in his opinion. They also didn't seem to understand the concept of personal space, but that was a moot point at the moment.

"You Westerners get lost all the time! I mean look at Roderich!" China shot back. America sighed. At the rate they were going it was going to evolve into a full on screaming match, something that did happen on occasion between the two of them when they pushed each other's buttons _just_ right, but America really didn't want to get involved in one right now, especially here. He could already see more than a couple people, including a few TSA officers, openly staring at them. He really didn't feel like having to get patted down or taken to a security room today, especially in his own goddamn country, thank you very much.

"Okay let's just calm down here m'kay?" America implored, following his own advice by taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. Well China wasn't still yelling at him so he'd take that as a good sign.

"Look, Roderich is a really bad example if you're setting him as your standard for all of us Westerners. I mean the guy gets lost in the grocery store for Christ's sake! I know you think just cause you're old and otherworldly and shit makes you think you know best but just trust me on this." He watched China carefully to see if he'd take the advice or not. Thankfully, he just sighed and shook his head.

"Fine, but when we are hopelessly lost I won't hesitate to rub it in your capitalist face," China groused. America grinned, shrugging off the insult and just being happy with the fact that China wasn't resisting his lead anymore.

"Thank you," America sighed and quickly dragged the elder nation off through the airport. And people said he didn't have any manners!

Even though he hadn't retorted immediately, America allowed himself to bask in smug victory as he and China walked out with their suitcases not five minutes later. He quickly hailed a taxi and the two of them piled in, America snapping off directions to his D.C. apartment to the cabbie. While he usually stayed at the White House so that he had better access to his boss, and subsequently his work, America also had a penthouse about fifteen minutes away that he used when hosting nations for non-diplomatic purposes. It was a lot easier and inexpensive to clean up the messes created in his kitchen than in, say, the Lincoln Bedroom after a night of partying with nations such as Prussia and France.

Not a word had been spoken between China and America as the cabbie dropped them off in front of the apartment complex. America paid the driver and thanked him before going around back to help China with the rest of their bags. Once inside America made a quick beeline for the elevator and jammed insistently on the penthouse button. More awkward silence flooded between them, interrupted only by the monotone elevator music tinkling around the small space. Thankfully, America's apartment building didn't have many floors compared to some of the complexes around them and the doors quietly opened as they reached the penthouse level. He stepped out immediately, fishing for his keys and jamming it in to unlock his door.

He turned around to welcome China to his home, since he supposed he should try to be at least a little courteous to the older nation. However, China just bustled past him and into the apartment without a word being spoken between them. America frowned, they were going to have to talk _sometime_ after all, but followed the Asian nation inside nonetheless.

He liked to think that he had some sense of fashion, contrary to what other nations believed. The apartment had a simplistic open floor concept with one room flowing seamlessly into the next. The walls were painted a soothing light blue and covered with pictures from all of his states as well as some he'd taken while abroad in Europe and Asia during the World Meetings when he had a few minutes of free time to spare. What could he say, he was a bit of closet photographer. Nothing too earth-shattering there.

The kitchen was closest to the door with modern, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. From there it flowed into the living room with the focal point being the gas fireplace with the flat screen TV resting above and a couch with two armchairs angled strategically around it. A fairly large, older looking bookshelf was jammed into the far corner of the room next to the floor-to-ceiling windows with a worn armchair beside it. A small offshoot to the left between the livingroom and kitchen led to one of the two bathrooms in the apartment as well as the two guest bedrooms America had set up.

His own room was across from the other hallway, along with the master bath and his study, which America gravitated towards immediately; the wish to plop himself down on his king-sized bed and shut the world out for a few hours practically overwhelming. Jetlag was a serious bitch. Thankfully he'd had the ability to time their flight so that it landed in the States during the night, so even though his internal clock said it was daytime the flight had exhausted him enough that he'd be able to fall asleep and adjust to the time zone difference faster.

People said he was an idiot, but seriously with three different time zones to contend with it would be ridiculous of him to have not figured out some sort of system for beating it at this point. He's had four hundred years to come up with it after all. The real mystery was how nations like Russia pulled themselves out of bed everyday with all their conflicting time zones. He stopped himself though halfway there, aware that he had a guest in the house and therefore had to put their needs before his own, much to his displeasure.

"Hey China," America called out. China looked up at him expectantly through half-lidded eyes, reminding America that he wasn't the only tired one here.

"The guest rooms are over there along with the bathroom," he continued, pointing to the hallway. "Feel free to set your stuff up in either room. One's technically Matt's but he's with Spain so I doubt he'll be coming to visit anytime soon. There's plenty of food in the fridge that you can eat if you're still hungry. We can talk about the rest of the week tomorrow." He waited for China's nod of understanding before going into his own room, shutting the door behind him before turning on the lights.

His own room stayed pretty consistent with the rest of the apartment aside from the greater amount of photos scattered across any and all free surfaces of his bedroom, a few early prototypes of planes and rockets that he had designed throughout the decades (a few with the help of his brother) hanging from the ceiling, various knick knacks that he had hung onto throughout the centuries strewn about, as well as a some superhero posters clinging to the walls. He felt his lips twitch up into a fond smile at the memory of England commenting on how childish the posters were and how America was supposed to act like an adult now that he was a superpower. He'd tried to seem all harsh and critical but America had been able to detect the mirth in his eyes easily enough since England would expect no less of him. What could he say? He liked comics and superheroes, sue him (actually please don't because he really doesn't have the money to pay you and seriously he really doesn't need any more debt I mean have you _seen_ the debt clock lately?).

He threw his suitcase on the floor near the end of the bed, shuffling towards his dresser to find a comfy pair of pajamas before he hit the sack. Surprisingly, or not, he found himself in pajama bottoms that sported the union jack on the side and an oversized Toronto Maple Leaf's tee shirt that Canada had bought him for Christmas a few years back. It made for a whacky combo, but considering they were from his two favorite people in the world it worked. Besides, he was practically dead on his feet and could be wearing nothing but that risque waiter's apron France had sent him one year for Christmas and not give a damn. He did make sure to send England a text saying that he and China had gotten home safely before he was whisked away into unconsciousness.

…

China groaned as he shifted underneath the covers. He was still in that wonderful gray area between sleep and reality, and he would have fallen fully back asleep if it wasn't for the insistent prodding of his shoulder.

"Leon, go find someone else to annoy," China mumbled, figuring that it was probably Hong Kong bothering him about where he was allowed to set his fireworks off- the answer being _nowhere_ and _never_.

"I don't know who Leon is, but you're the only person here to annoy," a voice that was definitely not his younger brother responded. As China finally decided that sleep was a losing battle he opened his eyes and looked to see America standing by the door frame, a long plastic stick held in one hand. The stick extended all the way over to China- who was a little past halfway across the room mind you -and he glanced at his shoulder to see a white plastic glove attached to the end of it, the pointer finger pressing against his shoulder. It took a moment for the events of the last meeting to come back to him- and no his memory is just _fine_ thank you very much! -but when they finally came back to him he was scowling at the American.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" China deadpanned.

"Uh, I think it's pretty self explanatory that I'm waking you up," America replied nonchalantly.

"With a plastic poker stick?"

"Um, yeah. I mean usually I reserve this for Mattie because let me tell you he is _not_ a morning person, seriously it's like poking a sleeping bear- I had to have it custom made and everything since the store ones aren't long enough... but anyways I thought it'd be safer for me to wake you up like this since I don't want to get karate-chopped in the face or anything," America explained with a shrug as he retracted the poker.

"You are an idiot, aru."

"I think you've already made it abundantly clear what you think of me," America deadpanned and that startled China. He was not expecting such a reasonable, cool-headed response from the younger nation. Whining and pouting, yes, but not this. There was nothing accusatory in his words, just a statement of fact and it unnerved China a little.

"Anyways," he continued as if he hadn't said anything, "I'm making breakfast now, so I'd thought I'd wake you up so you can make whatever you want, though I'm sure you'll still find something to bitch about." Before China could even think up a retort America had disappeared, leaving China sitting in bed, wondering what the hell just happened.

He decided that it was too early to think on such unsettling matters- a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand read that it was nine -and went about dragging himself out of bed, mentally complaining about his aching back and that Western beds were so uncomfortable, before straightening out his appearance a little and heading outside to see what sort of horrors America was making in the kitchen. After all, he had been raised by England so it wouldn't surprise China if he received a small, black, indistinguishable piece of what was supposed to be food.

He wandered into the kitchen area of the penthouse and saw America cooking away at the stove, phone tucked between ear and shoulder as he multitasked. As he made his way to the large refrigerator he listened- and no he was not eavesdropping… okay maybe a little -to America's conversation.

"- So he made you sit and listen to him play Chopin after he found you destroyed his kitchen?" America asked, clearly struggling not to laugh. The other person on the line replied and America listened dutifully while making sure to remember to flip the pancakes he had cooking on the griddle in front of him. After determining that there was nothing in the refrigerator of interest to him, China moved to sit at the granite top island that divided the kitchen from the living room area.

"I'm sure Austria's regretting getting paired up with you now," America snickered. China could hear the voice on the line rising, the person was most likely shouting, though America didn't seemed phased at all, grinning all the while. He couldn't remember who had been paired with Austria- he had still been scheming about ways to trick America into repaying his debt -but it seemed that America was good friends with them, which shortened the list of possible suspects considerably. Maybe it was his brother or… wait no it couldn't be since America mentioned him staying with Spain the night before. France? No, China didn't believe it was possible for France to ever do anything wrong when placed in a kitchen. Perhaps England then? It would certainly explain why Austria's kitchen was apparently destroyed. After all, America had a very limited number of friends and he had done right by Japan in the culinary department when he was under his care. China zoned back into the conversation to see that America was talking again.

"Alright, I gotta go now before the pancakes burn- yes I'm going to share them with China. I'm not a total douch- that was _one_ time! You had said you ate earlier! _Any_ ways I've got a few meetings this week and stuff so I'll call you when I'm free. Don't worry, I'll make sure to remember the time difference and wake you up at three in the morning. Yeah, yeah fuck you too Arthur. Alright, yep bye!"

"Who was that on the phone?" China asked idly as America stuffed his phone back into his pocket, really just to make conversation more than anything.

"Hm? Oh that was just Arthur," America answered absently. "Hey these pancakes are just about done, you want any?" China eyed the fluffy stack of golden pancakes suspiciously, but he supposed he could try one. He nodded and America gave him a small smile before producing two pancakes on a plate before him, giving himself a much larger stack. The maple syrup was placed between the two of them and China watched as America poured a generous amount of the surgery liquid onto his massive stack of food before placing it beside China. China put on what he deemed to be a reasonable amount before capping it off and carefully cut a piece and raised it up to examine it one last time.

"Dude, stop having a staring contest with the food and eat it already," America joked from his seat. China scowled at him.

"I'm getting to it," he snapped. America held his hands up in surrender, grinning at him.

"It's not gonna kill ya, you know," he added. China's scowled deepened. It was a wonder that England put up with him for so long, it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours and China was ready to smack him.

"That is debatable," he replied instead. Giving the food one last final glare, China sighed in defeat and ate it. He could _feel_ the smugness radiating off the younger nation as China wordlessly ate the rest of his food, washing it down with a glass of orange juice America provided. He'd never admit it aloud, but it had actually been… good. Of course it wasn't as good as rice congee, but it was better than he had been expecting. Remarkably, America restrained himself from commenting though and merely whistled cheerfully to himself as he cleared both of their plates and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Belatedly, China finally took in America's appearance and realized that he was dressed to head out somewhere in khakis and a light blue dress shirt and tie, most likely work. He himself also had some work to take care of. Perhaps he could get a taxi to the Chinese embassy. Though he didn't exactly find the idea of hailing a taxi and paying to get there very appealing- he certainly didn't want to be accused of helping to stimulate America's economy after all. That and he hadn't had the chance to exchange any of his currency yet so he had no U.S. dollars to spend.

"America," he stated, garnering the other's attention. "I need a ride to my embassy."

"Alright then, well if you don't want to take a taxi then I guess I could call one of my secret service guys over to give you a lift," America offered.

"What about you?" China asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I prefer to walk during the nicer months," America answered with a shrug. "It's May and it's only fifteen minutes away so why would I want to waste all that gas sitting in traffic? Besides there's a little cafe on the way there that makes some fantastic industrial strength coffee. I keep trying to get Arthur to try some but he won't budge." China snorted. Like Opium would ever drink anything that wasn't tea. "Anyways, I'll be in the office till, hm, probably till about dinner time? I'll give you a call if I happen to be running late or something," America continued as he slipped his shoes on and reached for his old World War II bomber jacket. "I'll give Jim a ring and tell him to drop by. Is there anything else you need before I leave?" America looked at China expectantly. China frowned. This was not the first time that he had been in America (sadly, it will not be the last). He was an old nation and didn't need to be babied by a nation as young as America- honestly, he was a mere toddler compared with China.

" _Fǒu_ , I can take care of myself," China retorted. America opened his mouth to say something, but then apparently thought better of it and shut it, merely giving China a slightly miffed look.

"Alrighty then, I'll just see myself out." And with that the American was finally gone, leaving China to himself.

Much like the people he represented, China was not one to waste time. He was ready and waiting by the time America's secret service agent (James? Jake? China honestly couldn't remember) arrived at the apartment, and once he was inside the embassy he went straight to work. Thankfully, his boss was very efficient with handing out work to the appropriate people and not dumping everything on China (there was also the fact that China had been around so long that he'd gotten the system down pat) so he finished the work scheduled for that day fairly quickly. He spent some more time around the embassy, catching up with all the old personnel he remembered and greeting new faces. It was a relief to be able to speak fluent Mandarin with people and have them reply in kind. He knew that it was a bit silly, but it irritated him that all of their meetings were usually held in English, since English-speaking countries like America refused to learn, and subsequently speak, any other language.

He called up America and requested another driver to bring him back to the apartment complex. China noted that America sounded a bit strained over the phone, but didn't bother to dwell on it since it was none of his business. He only cared that America's secret service showed up not ten minutes later and personally escorted him back to the apartment.

"Mister Jones sends his apologies, but it appears that he will be working late again," the agent (Joey? Jackson? No, none sounded right) informed him. China watched the human frown slightly, apparently not liking something about the notion. He felt his curiosity piqued but chose not to pursue it. It was none of his business what America did with his time. Knowing him, he was just wasting time playing on his phone and that was why his work was taking so long to complete.

"He asked me if there was anything you would like to eat that I could get for you?" the agent continued.

"I don't suppose America has the ingredients for sweet and sour pork in his kitchen," China muttered, mostly to himself

"Most likely not," the agent replied, having heard the brunet. "However, if you want sir, I can go to the local Chinese restaurant down the street and order some for you."

China agreed to it, figuring that since it was a Chinese restaurant that the establishment would served decent food. It was only after he had opened the unassuming white cardboard take-out box that he remembered that there was an extreme difference between _actual_ Chinese food and the American equivalent. He stared down at the food in front of him, wondering how the restaurant could possibly pass this off as sweet and sour pork.

Regardless, he ate the food anyway since it wasn't in his nature to waste perfectly fine food, even if it hadn't been what he'd truly wanted. He scrounged around the living room before locating the remote and turning on the TV, watching the news for a while to make sure everything was fine at home, though of course if anything had truly been wrong he would have felt it.

He was still feeling the effects of the jet lag so he went to bed early, only having to close his eyes for a couple of minutes before being whisked off to sleep. It only felt like a few minutes had passed before he was awoken abruptly by the sound of a door slamming shut. Glancing at the clock to see that it was three in the morning, China listened carefully as the person shuffled around in the other rooms. A few quiet mumbles made their way to China's ear and although he couldn't make out exact words, he recognized the voice as belonging to America.

China made a mental note to berate the younger nation the next day about being quieter and not returning at such ungodly hours of the morning. He listened as America shuffled around and then he could hear other voices softly in the background and concluded after a minute that America had turned the television on and was listening to the news. The noise left China unable to sleep and he was just about to get out of bed and demand America turn it off when the TV was shut off and China heard America shuffle off and then the quiet click of a door closing. Finally, blessed silence had returned.

The pattern of America waking China early in the morning before leaving for work, staying in the office past dinner (leaving him to fend for himself), then returning at some odd hour of the morning and watching the news for a half hour before going to his room, was repeated over the next several days. They barely spoke to each other except during breakfast, and at that time of the morning neither of them were awake enough to offer more than half-finished sentences and sleepy grunts.

On that day after he had finished his work he chose to check up on Japan while he had some free time.

" _Kon'nichiwa_ China-san," Japan's quiet voice greeted. China was still a bit disgruntled by the fact that Japan still refused to call him by his human name when they were alone, or even just brother! He had raised the island nation after all! Then again, things had never been the same between them since the war...

" _Nǐ hǎo_ Japan!" China replied. "I was simply calling to see how everything's going for you?"

"Oh _hai_. Well Feliciano-kun has been- _gomen'nasai_ one moment- Feliciano-kun, _please_ put some clothes on! _Gomen'nasai_ , China-san. It has been a bit hectic around here." China felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. It sounded like Japan was having a rough go of it as well, yet he sounded so calm. Well, he naturally sounded that way in the first place but still.

"It's not a problem Japan," China replied soothingly. "I'm surprised that you sound so calm considering that Italy is staying over so long."

"Hm, actually it is quite enjoyable to have Feliciano-kun here- Feli-kun stop chasing Pochi around! -it is nice to be around such lively nations. We are actually only staying at my place for another day or so before going to visit Italy for the rest of the trip. How is your stay with Alfred-kun going so far? I hope you haven't been too rude." China balked at the callus statement.

" _Duìbùqĭ_? If either of us is the rude one, then it is most certainly that American snob! He has no respect for his elders!" China objected. Across the line he could hear Japan's quiet sigh.

"China-san, please calm down for a moment and consider this. You are in America, in Alfred-kun's personal home against his wishes. To most people, it is an extreme invasion of privacy. On top of that you have imposed on him for an entire week, which complicates his life very much."

"That's not my fault!" China countered. "This whole mess is France's fault."

" _Hai_ , and while a large portion of the blame for the circumstances must be allotted to him, do not think that you do not hold any blame either- Feli-kun, don't read that, that's not!... Nevermind…- _Watashi ga itte iru koto wa_ , do not think that you are blameless in this matter either. You have probably put Alfred-kun under much undue stress and are only exacerbating the issue by being so stubborn in your viewpoint of him."

" _I_ am putting him under stress? What about the stress being put upon _me_?" China retorted, more than a little miffed that Japan was supporting America's position to such a degree. He had always been more than a little jealous at how easily the two nations were able to repair their relationship after World War Two, even though Alfred had decimated Japan, had utterly destroyed him, and yet…

And yet Japan forgave him.

Forgave him before he'd ever forgive China.

Japan's quiet sigh snapped China back to the present and away from his thoughts.

"China-san, it has been quite a while since you have last visited the States correct? Why don't you walk around for a little bit, see what has changed. Perhaps drop in on Alfred-kun and say hello. See how he is doing?"

China heard the click of the receiver and the subsequent beeping that followed and it took him a second to realize that Japan had hung up on him. _Japan_. China frowned at his phone, both angry and surprised that Japan would do something that he knew was incredibly rude. He swiveled around in his chair and looked out at the clogged and congested city landscape. He glanced behind him at the neat stack of papers on his desk, ready to be taken away by one of the humans. He had absolutely nothing else to do for the day, and with the traffic looking the way it did, it would better for him to return to the apartment complex on foot- it had nothing to do with Japan's earlier words. Absolutely nothing.

" _China-san, it has been quite a while since you have last visited the States correct?"_

He had to admit, Japan had been right. It had been quite some time since he last visited the States. He wasn't talking about all the meetings and World Conferences that he had had to attend on American soil, and he knew that wasn't what Japan had been getting at either. The last time he had truly visited America had been decades ago, centuries ago really, when they both had been a bit younger, the world bit simpler, America more naive- still adjusting to the new glasses resting on the bridge of his nose -and the smell of gold lingering in the air.

He looked around him as he ambled down the street, watching the steady stream of humans flowing by him. Taking a deep breath he allowed his senses to roam. Despite the fact that it was beginning to get late in the evening the air seemed to thrum with life around him, city skyscrapers towering hundreds of feet above his head, cars constantly moving and abruptly stopping, people talking about countless topics in half a dozen languages and China idly wondered that if he, who was not even the representative of these people, could sense the pulse of their energy to such a degree, how America could handle it at full volume. Perhaps that was why he was always bursting with energy.

As he was walking, lost in thought, he finally realized that his feet had led him in a completely different direction from the apartment and instead had led him over to the street that divided the Washington Monument from the Lincoln Memorial. He watched as tourists, both American and foreign, flocked around them- ogling at them and snapping pictures. He was reminded that while America may be a child, that he certainly wasn't innocent. In the two hundred thirty nine years that America had been independent he had been at war for two hundred twenty two of them. Growing up in the blink of an eye…. forced to take on the responsibilities of a nation so young… it made China grateful that he had been able to raise his siblings for as long as he had. Perhaps they hadn't all turned out completely normal, but he cherished them all the same.

It would be impossible for him to work his way back to the apartment now, so instead he reoriented himself and began walking towards the White House. Assuming that the agent hadn't been lying and that America was following the same routine as previous, then he should still be working. Either way he could still get a lift, whether it be from America or one of the agents there.

The security guards were quick to let him inside once he'd flashed his ID at him that allowed him almost unlimited access to the White House. He then proceeded to corner the first agent he could find and demand to be taken to America's office. He was led up to the door where two other agents stood on guard outside it. China glanced at them a bit curious- why in the world would they need to be guarding their nation when they were inside one of the most secure buildings in the world? Nevertheless, the door was opened and China allowed inside. It seemed that America hadn't even noticed his presence, bent over his desk furiously reading and signing documents of all sorts. There was a veritable mountain of papers on his desk that honestly gave China a bit of second-hand anxiety. He looked haggard, like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. He tried to compare the normally peppy America that he had come to know to this new version of America. It didn't work out so well.

" _Perhaps drop in on Alfred-kun and say hello. See how he is doing."_

Stupid Japan, he must have known what was going on with America and leading China to figure it out too in his own irritatingly round-about manner. That over-zealous brat looked about two seconds away from collapsing. Well, there was no helping it now. With a huff, China turned around and walked back out of the room without America once glancing up from his work.

"Excuse me," China said, finding the nearest agent. "Can you show me to the kitchen?"

…

It was official. Paperwork sucked _major_ balls and nobody would ever able to convince him otherwise. Fuck, he'd rather invade the Russki in the dead of January then sign another government document. Didn't they have workers to look over this type of stuff? People who had gone into hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt and came out with a slip of paper declaring them fit to work? Why did he have to look through all of this stuff? God he should just retire, he was _way_ past the working age limit.

With a groan his head hit the mahogany of the desk, unable to be held up any longer, which in turn elicited another, more drawn out groan as his forehead raised its complaint. As he wallowed in the various injustices done against him he heard the clink of a saucer and cup against the desk and could detect the hint of something bitter in the surrounding air. Summoning enough strength to tilt his head just enough so that his chin was now the sole part pressing against the desk, America focused in on the steaming cup of tea that had been placed in front of him. Ready to thank one of his guys for getting him the tea- he had made them all swear that they would never disclose the fact that he still enjoyed tea to anyone -he glanced up and then nearly fell out of his seat when he saw China standing there.

Shit, shit, shit, shit. China's not supposed to see him like this. He's supposed to see the United States of America as the Hero, _the_ number one world superpower, unaffected by anything and always bursting with energy. Not five seconds away from passing out, a headache the size of Alaska (because even Texas was too small of a comparison this go around), and with a serious case of carpal tunnel. He saw China smirk slightly, most likely reading the panic written all over his face. Then the smile took on a more gentle look and America had never been more confused in his life.

"Drink the tea," China told him, voice surprisingly calm. "You'll feel better."

He eyed the tea carefully, trying to figure out the chances of it being poisoned.

"It's not going to kill you," the brunet said with an exasperated sigh. Damn, where the hell was his poker face when he really needed it.

"Uh- _huh_ ," America drawled, tone terribly unconvinced. Still, he wrapped his hands around the cup and sat up slightly, enough to take a sip. It was decidedly bitter, and America itched to add a teaspoon or two of sugar to it, but China was right. He definitely felt a bit better just from that one sip. Sitting up a bit straighter, America drank the rest of the tea, feeling infinitely better by the time he placed the cup back in its saucer.

"Thanks for that."

"I can't exactly have the United States of America passing out in my presence," China griped. "It would be bad for my reputation." America chuckled tiredly at that, rubbing the grit out of his eyes.

"Yeah, I can see how that might cause some issues," he agreed. He was curious though. "China, what are you doing here? I would have thought that you'd be at the apartment by now." He watched China fidget slightly, a flash of shame in those chocolate eyes.

"I… got a bit lost," China admitted. America resisted the urge to laugh, though a small chuckle slipped past that had China glaring at him.

"Sorry, sorry," America said, sobering up quickly. "Anyways, if ya just needed a ride then why didn't you say so earlier? You could have just asked any one of my boys, they all know who you are after all."

"I… I wanted to come check up on you. That is all," China replied, his words slightly halting. America scrutinized China for a moment before sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"Ah jeez, Kiku told you to come check up on me didn't he? He's always nagging me about working so much," America stated tiredly. China was surprised to have America read him so easily, but at the same time, they both knew that China wouldn't simply come to 'check up on him' unless someone else had prompted him, and it wasn't like he actively spoke with either England, France, or Canada- the three of whom were the only others outside of Japan and Russia that knew about America's work habits.

"Regardless of who sent me, it was a good thing they did. Clearly you need someone to take care of you." China jumped slightly when he saw America's eyes narrow angrily at him.

"I can take care of myself and my people just _fine_. I don't need anyone else sticking their nose in _my_ business," he ground out, metaphorical hackles rising defensively. He knew that China wasn't trying to be insulting, or well he was assuming he wasn't, but the words still rankled. Why did everyone have to think he was so incompetent? He wasn't just some dumb kid that needed to be spoon fed everything. He didn't _need_ or _want_ anyone taking care of him, not anymore. He was the mother-fucking US of A and he had _earned_ his spot as top dog again and again solely because of _his_ decisions.

"Dave!" America snapped.

The doors opened and one of the agents stepped forward, his body tense and on edge, one hand 'casually' resting on his holster as he took in the scene in front of him.

"Sir," the agent responded, voice sure and strong. America's sky blue eyes slid from his agent to the brunet.

"Please escort China back to my apartment. Take care of anything that he asks for."

"And yourself sir?" the agent questioned.

"I still have work to finish before heading back," the nation replied, his eyes dropping to the desk as he felt the spark of pity from his agent. Bless his people, they cared about him too much; he honestly didn't think he deserved it at times. Thankfully, Dave understood the silent dismissal and turned his attention to China.

"If you would follow me sir." China shot America a miffed look but it went unseen as America kept his eyes on his work and soon China was out and the doors once again closed. America sighed and slumped back in his chair, the anger and irritation he'd felt at China's earlier words already fading into the back of his mind.

"Great, just great Alfred," America muttered to himself. "You probably just sent Sino-American relations back fifty years, fan- _fucking_ -tastic. You get a gold star for that one."

 _Yeah, I know that you wanna be Canadian, please_

 _Even if in the winter things tend to freeze_

 _We've got the world Monopoly on trees_

 _And our country's bordered by three different seas ~_

America nearly fell out of his seat for the second time that day when his phone went off loudly, the lyrics to _Canadian Please_ belting out of the device. Of course it would be him calling, his brother always seemed to know precisely when America had fucked up.

"Yo Mattie, what's up? Why the hell are you still awake, isn't it, like, past midnight where you are?" America asked, putting the phone on speaker and tossing the phone on to the desk as his brother answered.

" _Yeah, but I couldn't sleep_ ," his brother replied. " _It's too_ hot _here_."

"Aw, don't go melting into a puddle on me now bro," America joked.

" _Shut up_ ," his brother growled half-heartedly and America laughed. He'd missed hearing his brother's voice, but lately with the way the work was piling up and the huge time zone difference he hadn't had a chance this week to really talk to his brother besides a few errant texts here and there.

"So, how are you and Spain getting along?" America asked, curious about what his brother had been up to.

" _Eh, Spain is fine. He took me out to the countryside the first day and showed me all around. It's really pretty here, even if it's too hot. We went to a bullfight in Madrid the next day, though I didn't really stick around for it, I felt really bad for the bull._ " America nodded his head in agreement, even if his brother couldn't see it. Canada loved animals and hated seeing them hurt, especially it if was just for sport. Another thing the two of them found weird about Europe.

" _Romano came over on the third day- he was in a really foul mood so the three of us went tomato-picking, and he seemed to calm down after that. Today we went over to the ocean and swam… we had to change locations though when he brought me to a nudist beach._ " America choked on air at his brother's words and began laughing so hard that tears started budding in the corner of his eyes, clearly envisioning his twin's face burning in embarrassment at being placed in such a predicament.

"What… the hell… is wrong… with Europeans," America wheezed, and he could hear Canada's faint groan of embarrassment make its way across the line.

" _I don't know and frankly I don't care. I just want to go home_ ," he whined and America felt a stab of sympathy for his brother. They still had a few more days before they had to go back to France and get 'matched' again.

" _Anyways, enough about me. How are you dealing with China? You two at each other's throats yet?_ " Canada asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. America grimaced at China's name and began to recount to his brother everything that had happened over the past few days. Canada listened without interrupting once, he had always been a fantastic listener for when America needed him.

" _Al I love you, but you're an idiot_ ," his brother stated bluntly at the end of America's rant.

"But Mattie…" America whined.

" _Stop whining and listen to me hoser before you lose your second biggest trading partner,_ " Canada snapped and America immediately complied. " _Geez, you two used to get along pretty well when you guys were allies back in the forties, what the hell happened between you two?_ "

"I… I don't really know," America told him honestly. When exactly had the two of them gone from allies to enemies between then and now? "Everything was so different back then, a lot more laid back in some ways. There was a lot less political pressure on us, plus there's the whole debt thing now that's been really straining things…"

" _Well, if I were you I'd figure something out, and fast too. We only have three days left and one of them is a travel day technically. Despite Francis' ulterior motives, we should really use this as an opportunity to get along better with each other. Maybe our people don't get along, but that doesn't mean we have to follow their examples."_

"Only you could spin this into something positive," America chuckled. He could hear the rustle of clothing and imagined Canada shrugging across the line.

" _It's hard to be pessimistic in the same house as Spain. It's like his optimism is contagious or something."_

"Think there's something in the water?"

" _Maybe,"_ Canada snorted. " _Anyways I should go. Go home Al, work can wait."_

"Tell that to my boss," America grumbled. "Night bro."

" _See ya Al."_

At the beep of the call disconnecting America put his phone away, eyeing the papers on his desk and debating whether to heed his brother's words or pull another all nighter to get everything all finished up. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

He let out an almighty sigh.

"Fuck it."

The nighttime air was thrumming with life as America walked down the street toward his apartment. He wasn't in too much of a hurry to get back though, the image of a pissed off China more than enough incentive for his feet to wander. He found himself sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Monument, looking out at the Reflecting Pool, and past that to the Washington Monument. The daytime tourists were gone; it was just him and the lonely moon above. Just the sight of them filled him with a rush of patriotic pride and somber nostalgia. He wondered what they thought of all that had become of their nation. He hoped they were proud of it, of _him_.

Before he even really registered the action he had his phone pressed against his ear, the dial tone ringing out.

" _Bloody 'ell, do you have any idea what time it is over here?"_ America smiled softly at England's sleep-muffled voice.

"Sorry Art, I didn't mean to wake you up."

" _Yes you did,"_ he retorted immediately.

"Heh, guess I did. It's just one of those nights I suppose. Mind if I pick your brain for a little bit?"

…

"A carnival?" China repeated dubiously. He watched America closely, looking for any signs of deception- the boy was either disgustingly transparent with his emotions or a brick wall with no in between -but he couldn't seem to find anything that said he was lying to him. He had been furious at the blond last evening, ready to give him a tongue-lashing that his people's ancestors would feel for _centuries_ , but a good night's sleep had left him in a slightly more receptive mood. Still though, he hadn't quite been expecting this. He eyed the brightly colored ticket America had slapped into his hand, twisting it this way and that.

Normally, he would have expected the American to just ignore him for the rest of his stay, it was something of a specialty of his when he didn't want to deal with unpleasant situations, but obviously someone had managed to get through to the younger nation and change his mind. He glanced up at America, pleased to see the unease in his expression. Ah well, as much as he enjoyed making the younger nation squirm on occasion he _was_ rather fond of carnivals and cute things.

"It's their final night in town," he added, shifting his weight back and forth. "I thought with the way work and, well, 'everything'," he waved his hand around vaguely, "was going that this would be a nice little break for the both of us. Lord knows we could both use one." China allowed him to fidget for another minute before letting out a sigh.

"Well, I _suppose_ this is the least you could do for me." He just caught America's eye-roll as he turned away from him.

"Well, alrighty then, what are we waiting for?"

They waited until evening before catching a cab to bring them to the edge of the city where the carnival was being held. China watched the younger nation out of the corner of his eye as they stepped out, observing the way his face broke out into a large grin upon seeing the carnival all lit up and running, a childish glint in his eyes. China had to admit that it was impressive, slightly bedazzled himself by all the flashing lights and loud music filling the air.

"Come on let's go!" America, looking like a kid in a candy shop, latched onto China's wrist, dragging him towards the first ride he saw. The elder nation let himself be towed onto the first three rides, pretending like he wasn't starting to have fun whenever America looked his way.

"Oh come on man, what do I have to do to get you to smile?" He was practically whining, looking at China with big puppy-dog eyes that could probably make half the globe bend over backwards. Before he could say anything though America's eyes lit up.

"I know! I'll win ya a stuffed animal!"

" _Shénme?_ " China stuttered, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn. America didn't seem to pay any attention, already leading them towards the game booths.

"I'm not a girl!" He turned his head back and flashed China a smile.

"Never said you were dude, but seriously who _doesn't_ like stuffed animals? They're fucking adorable." Hm, well, China supposed he couldn't argue with that. Besides, since he had been such a bad host this past week it was only fair that he give China some sort of apology present. If said present happened to be a cute stuffed animal, well then he wasn't going to complain. He was pulled from his thoughts by America's loud whoop of excitement.

"Yes! I kick ass at the Hi Striker!" China eyed the game, watching as a teenager ahead of them swung the hammer down, barely getting halfway to the bell. He had to hide a smirk at the thought of America's swing causing the bell to fly off with its strength.

"Isn't it cheating if you have super strength?" America turned to look at him and made exaggerated shushing noises at him, a smile playing at his lips.

"Better start picking out that stuffed animal," he told him. "I'm gonna get the grand prize!" China rolled his eyes, watching as he swaggered up to the person manning the game, handing him some money in exchange for the hammer. He twirled the hammer in his hand a few times before turning to give China a quick wink and slammed it down on the block. The weight shot up like a rocket, and China nearly laughed at the way the human's eyes were bugging out. Whistling some nameless, upbeat tune America waltzed over to him, grinning like a loon.

"So, didja pick something out?" China rolled his eyes, fighting to keep a smile down at his childish enthusiasm.

"I'll be taking the panda." He wanted to wipe that knowing smirk off the boy's face but he turned around to go grab China his prize.

"Here ya go, one adorably fluffy panda, for the grandpa." He sighed, snatching the stuffed panda away.

" _Báichī_ ," he muttered into the panda's head. "Let's play a different game." Preferably one where he could beat the American and knock that cocky attitude down a peg or two.

"Betcha I can kick your ass in balloon pop," the blond decreed.

"Balloon pop?" China repeated uncertainly.

"Yeah! They have a bunch of balloons and you can compete against each other to see who can pop the most!" As he explained how the game worked he led China over to the next row of booths and got them next in line. In front of them were a handful of children haphazardly throwing a set of darts at a board filled with inflated balloons. When they finished up the two of them moved up to the front of the booth. The girl manning the booth gave each of them three darts, running over the rules in slightly more detail than America had given.

America grinned at him. "Ready to lose gramps?"

China found himself matching his companions grin. "Get ready to run home to Opium, brat."

The game was on, and China found himself thoroughly enjoying himself now. America proved to be a skilled marksman, hitting each balloon dead center. He only wished he had something to capture the priceless look on his face as China easily matched him with each set. He was embarrassed to say he got rather involved in the game, and before he could catch himself he, quite literally, jumped for joy when America's mounting paranoia caused him to miss his last target, leading to China being declared the winner. Surprisingly, rather than pouting and sulking America was rather gracious about the loss.

"Damn, looks like an old fart like you still has some moves."

Still basking in his victory, and clutching his newest addition- a push fat tabby cat -to his chest alongside his panda, China chose to ignore the younger nation.

However-

"Betcha can't do it twice."

China cast a sharp glance at America, undeterred by the smirk curling at his lips.

"Bring. It."

Looks like he'd have to put America in his place.

…

America found himself waking up slowly the next morning. He stretched out along his bed, still somewhere in that blissful gray area between wakefulness and sleep. Unbidden, a smile came to his lips as his mind drifted to last night. He hadn't thought that the carnival idea would actually work, but he'd genuinely had a good time with China. It had almost been like the old times with the playful barbs and friendly competition. Just for the night, they had been Alfred and Yao and not America and China. He could hear movement coming from within the apartment, which meant that China must be up and moving. Well if China was up then it was probably best he was up too.

With the vague notion that he was forgetting about something important he shuffled out of his room and into the main living space. He found China in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea and something that looked kind of like oatmeal but it had a bunch of other stuff in it too.

"Morning," America mumbled, heading straight for the coffee machine on the counter behind the other nation.

" _Zǎoshang hǎo_ ," China replied. "Did you sleep well?"

America nodded. Actually, now that he was thinking about it he was feeling unusually well rested today. Normally his alarm clock woke him up earlier than his body wanted, leaving him as a sleepy zombie well into his second cup of coffee. Actually, he didn't remember his alarm clock going off this morning…

"Shit," he swore as he scurried over to his phone which he had left on the counter to charge during the night. " _Fuck_ it's almost eleven!" Oh crap he was _so_ late for work, which meant that he'd have to stay even _later_ than he normally did to make it up and didn't the President have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff that he wanted America to sit in on and-

"Stop worrying," China told him.

"How can I _not_ worry? Oh man, my boss is gonna kill me when I clock in…"

"No he isn't," the other nation insisted. America paused his frantic movements long enough to cast a confused look at him. Why the hell was he acting so calm about this? Also how did he know his boss wasn't going to blow up on him?

China looked up from his porridge meal thing and met America's eye. "I called your boss and explained to him that you needed a day off from work. Told him you weren't feeling well." Wait, but America felt perfectly fine.

"Did you _lie_ to my boss?" It was hard to keep the incredulous tone out of his words. China looked completely unruffled by the situation, but that did little for America's nerves.

"Even nations need an off day every once in awhile to recover. You've been working ceaselessly since you returned home and tomorrow we'll be flying back out again. I know that having me here hasn't exactly been easy for either of us." Understatement of the year. "So I thought that a day to ourselves would be beneficial."

Well, America couldn't lie that the prospect of taking a sick day was ridiculously alluring. He'd done nothing but work until he all but dropped from exhaustion all week and China's forced visit had only compounded things. America hadn't felt this stressed in a while that was for sure. Besides, if China had already made the calls then there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it now. Might as well enjoy it while he could.

Now he just had to figure out what to do now that he suddenly had all this free time to kill. It wasn't really something he was used to.

"Whatcha eating?" America asked, completely changing the subject now that his internal panic attack had subsided with his decision. China seemed slightly surprised by the complete one-eighty but quickly recovered.

"This is rice congee. It's a very common dish in my country."

America chuckled. "Got fed up with the chinese food here?" China snorted.

"There is no chinese food here, there is only _american_ chinese food offered in your country," came the swift rebuke. America shrugged.

"What's the difference?" Of course _he_ knew there was a difference, but he enjoyed seeing China sputter, his cheeks turning red.

"'What's the-' of _course_ there's a difference you buffoon." Hm, wasn't that what England usually called him? Looks like the two of them had been swapping insults while his back had been turned. Sneaky bastards. Still though, all this talk of food gave America a bright idea.

"Well then, why don't you show me?" he asked. China seemed surprised from the request- god just because he'd been raised by stuffy old England didn't mean he didn't have an appreciation for food from other countries, or that he didn't have any taste buds left; which _okay_ that was kind of a valid reasoning considering the charcoal briquettes England had tried to feed him when he was younger but _still_.

"Fine, I will, but don't think you're just going to sit on your ass and watch me." America grinned. Honestly he loved working in the kitchen, and even if China was wearing the chef's hat today, so to speak, he was okay with that. Besides, he knew if China took anything seriously, it was his food, so he was guaranteed for a good meal.

Not that the elder nation made it easy for him. The meal he'd decided they'd make, Xiao Long Bao, was definitely a tricky thing to make. Grabbing the ingredients for it was actually one of the easiest parts of it since instead of searching up and down the grocery aisles for hours America decided to skip all that nonsense and set China loose on Chinatown instead- the one problem that he hadn't been expecting was having to all but throw the elder nation over his shoulder and to get him out of the borough or else they would have been there for _forever_ talking to the little old lady who owned the over-priced antique shop with all the waving kittens in the front window. When they finally made it back to the apartment China was quick to snap out orders.

Frankly, America wasn't used to working with gelatin, which was one of the ingredients used in the recipe. There was also a lot of waiting around for things to set, which America usually didn't have to put up with unless he was baking cookies or something like that. They passed the time by America introducing China to one of his first-person shooter games that Japan had sent over a month or so ago. He had already beaten the game, but it was just as entertaining to sit back and watch the other nation struggle through the campaign mode and make snarky comments every time he got his head blown off.

Once enough time had gone by they got out the dough and the stock that had been chilling in the fridge, and China tasked America with flattening and folding the dough so that it formed the iconic dumpling shape as the elder nation filled in the center after watching him shape the first two perfectly. In comparison America's looked like cheap knockoffs of the real thing, his thick fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. Surprisingly though, China didn't get all up in his grill about it, rather he simply encouraged him to get it right the next time. It was weird but strangely pleasant.

The best part by far, naturally, was when they finally got to eat them. Tears came to his eyes as he ate the first dumpling- though whether they were tears of joy from the taste or tears of pain from the fact that the inside was still scaldingly hot and actively burning his mouth he wasn't quite sure. China smirked as America hastily rubbed his eyes, eating his own dumpling at a much more sedate pace.

"Good?" All he got was an energetic nod in return- because it was just plain rude to talk with food in your mouth jeesh -but that seemed to be enough to garner a pleased flush from the man, which America took as a personal victory.

"Man that was _so_ good," America announced as they threw the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. He looked at the stove clock, surprised to see that it was already early evening. God, he didn't even want to look at his phone and see all the missed calls and texts from his government. He looked over at China, who'd taken up the game controller once again, perched on his couch and decided on the perfect way to end the day.

"Yo, China!"

" _Shénme_?"

"I just totally figured out what we should do to cap off the day!" He watched the nation pause the game and look over at him, expression vaguely curious.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well," America scratched his chin, "Since we made some of your food today, I thought that I could teach you how to make some of mine."

"We're not going to go to McDonalds," came the automatic reply.

The blond shook his head. "Nah man, not fast food. I'm talking real _authentic_ American cuisine here."

He seemed to consider it for a moment. "I _suppose_ it couldn't hurt."

"Sweet! Then prepare yourself for the holy grail of American desserts: the legendary apple pie!"

"It's not going to glow is it?" America gaped at the Chinese man, who he could tell was completely serious in his questioning.

He frantically waved his hands around. "Wha- no! Hell no, apple pie doesn't _glow-_ that's just- just _wrong_."

"Well, there was that Christmas cake a few years back…"

"Oh my god, you're _still_ hung up on that?" America couldn't help chuckling. Honestly, for a guy who was over four thousand years old, he certainly got stuck on the weirdest little things. Then again he'd noticed the same thing with other older nations, so maybe it wasn't just China being eccentric.

"Cake and pie are two _totally_ separate things. Jeez, I don't know why you guys were all so freaked out about the cake, you _do_ know what food coloring is right?"

"Pretty sure neon green still isn't natural," China mumbled under his breath but America still caught it anyways.

"I promise it won't glow, kay? Come on, you haven't _lived_ until you've had American apple pie."

China arched an eyebrow at him. "I've been alive for thousands of years."

"Yeah but there's a difference between being alive and actually _living_ ," America stressed. China remained dubious.

"You're very strange even for a nation."

The American grinned. "I take that as a complement. Now, are we baking heavenly goodness or not?"

China seemed to be silently debating to take America's offer, but in the end his love for all things food prevailed.

He looked at him and America could see victory within his grasp. " _Sǐle suǒyǒu_."

…

"Yanno, even though the next time I see him I'm going to kill him, I suppose Francis' game hasn't been all bad," America commented offhandedly as they stood in security line at the Ronald Reagan Airport.

China hummed in agreement as they slowly moved forward. Most of the week had been irritating to say the least, but these last few days had been… pleasant. Which was definitely not something China would have expected an extended stay with America to be, but he couldn't say that he was unhappy with it either. Despite their governments still not seeing eye to eye China felt like he could relate to America a bit better now. It reminded him of their relationship during the forties, and it was nice to see some of that once again in the present day.

Of course, he was still going to give France a concussion with his wok the first chance he got though.

But for now he'd focus on more pleasant thoughts, like getting America to cough up the recipe for that apple pie they made last night. Just the thought of it made China's toes curl.

Maybe he could cut off a few thousand dollars from his debt for it?

 **Next one up is Romano and Germany (if I can ever actually get onto a schedule)**

 **Okay so now that I'm a little more awake and scrolling through comments (btw love you guys and love that you're liking this) there was one review that I wanted to address. Typically I'd put this in the next chapter but considering my trackrecord with this fic I thought it was best to address it here where everyone can see it**

 **Normally I'd just PM you, but you reviewed under guest so my response will just have to go here and maybe you'll see it:**

 **Anyways, to the guest and anyone having similar questions, maybe the title of my fic and the summary had you thinking that this was going to be a purely romance fic, but honestly that's probably going to be _way_ more subtle and practically nonexistent even. If the site offered a third genre then it would definitely be friendship in this fic because this is a really big part of the story. **

**This whole story arc is really just me throwing different hetalia characters- who a lot of the time we don't see much interaction with -together and seeing how they get along. This _does not mean that every matchup will result in a romantic relationship_.**

 **Let me repeat - _Not everyone who is paired together is actually going to get together_**

 **Case in point is this chapter you've all just read. While I have a fine appreciation for AmeChu and all who ship them, it's not were I'm planning their storyline to go. This _whole_ chapter was really about diving into their characterization and their relationship and expanding on it. At no point, that I could discern anyways, was the even vaguest notion of them in a romantic relationship mentioned. This particular story was just about their platonic relationship with one another. **

**And that's going to be the case with most of these chapters (whenever I actually put them up here anyways).**

 **Of course, everyone is welcomed to their own interpretation and their own headcanons and such, but since I'm writing this it's following my own thoughts and opinions of each of the nations- which may wildly differ from your own. I just ask that you take this story with a grain of salt and don't hold it to your own standards.**

 **And trust me, not every nation in this story is gay or romantically inclined towards the same sex. There are straight nations, gay nations, asexual nations and possibly others with different sexual orientations in this story with varying romantic orientations amongst all of them. I'm not a fan of straight-washing (or in this case gay-washing) all the characters in a story because that's just not cool and it certainly won't be happening here.**

 **So don't freak out about that, and don't worry too much about Romano (or any of the other characters in this story) I promise everything will work out for him :)**

 **Butterfly out ~**


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